


Hat Trick

by SerenityStargazer



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anniversary, Crowley can't chair...or sofa, Crowley gives Aziraphale reason to live!, Crowley loves his naughty angel!, M/M, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26982565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityStargazer/pseuds/SerenityStargazer
Summary: Day 4: Strip TeaseAziraphale has been working very hard to give his demon a special treat for their first anniversary of the world not ending and their...ahem...union. In which an angel successfully tempts a demon to lust. On purpose this time.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 39
Collections: Ineffable Kinktober 2020





	Hat Trick

Aziraphale was a jittering ball of nervous energy by the time seven rolled around. One hour till showtime! He rang the bell and Madame Tracy buzzed him in. He hurried up the stairs, knocked quickly, and let himself in without waiting for a reply. Anathema was already there, having a cup of tea with the older woman at the small dining table. They both put down their cups and grinned at his flustered entrance.

"It a bit of a hurry are we, love?" Tracy asked as she stood.

"Well, yes, rather," the blond angel said, trying to still himself but fidgeting with the bottom of his worn but well-loved waistcoat instead. "We've never had an anniversary to celebrate before, not in all the years we've been together. But it's been a year since the world didn't end and...well, our first night together and I think that's all well worth celebrating. Oh, I do hope he likes it! He's so much better at this sort of thing than I could ever hope to be."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," piped up the brunette American from the table. "You've been practicing hard and I totally think you're ready. Crowley will be blown away! Just you wait and see!"

"Considering how your routine ends, dearie, I doubt you'll have anything but a satisfied boyfriend on your hands," Tracy added with an amused smile. 

"Oh, thank you both! Guess I should get dressed and head over then. Get this show on the road, as it were." While not exactly calm, their words had restored his flagging confidence and he started looking forward to his performance.

😇💞😎

At ten till eight, Crowley entered his flat, a jittering column of curiosity. Aziraphale had told him he had a surprise and he needed Crowley out of the flat until at least seven forty-five. The fiery-haired demon had given him an extra five, but wanted to be sure he was sitting on the couch by eight, per angelic instruction.

He knew it must have something to do with their anniversary. Although they hadn't discussed it, Crowley was very aware that it had been a year since they had come back to his and the angel said yes to him completely. He'd say it was the best night of his life if every night after hadn't been full of an angel making everything perfect. 

He sauntered in, kicked off his boots, and saw a note on the mirror in the entryway. From Aziraphale, it asked him to leave the lights off and to sit on the couch. Leave off the lights? How mysterious! Crowley hurried in and sat (sprawled) in the middle of the sofa, one stockinged foot on the floor and the other tucked under him. He tried not to bounce, but sitting still was not his wheelhouse. He tucked his sunglasses into his jacket pocket and did his best to wait patiently. 

Then he felt a familiar angelic presence and relaxed, pulling his leg out and hooking it bent on the sofa cushion. His eyebrows twitched up as music started, all brassy and brazen. A spotlight with no light source brought his eyes to the far side of the room directly in front of him.

Aziraphale stood, no,  _ posed  _ in the center of the beam of light. He was dressed in a cream colored tux with stretchy, tight-fitting trousers. His bow tie and waistcoat were metallic gold, glittering in the brightness. On his head was a cream top hat, reminding the demon of days long ago.

Aziraphale winked as the trumpets gave way to keyboards pounding a quiet, but insistent rhythm. His hips began to sway. A raspy voice sang, instructing his baby to take off her coat real slow.

The angel slid his jacket slowly down to his elbows and smiled shyly as he shimmered out of one side, grabbing the other arm as the weight of the coat pulled it down. Holding the sleeve, the blond swung the coat over his head twice, tossed it, and it disappeared as it left his hand.

Fascinated, Crowley’s foot hit the floor as he leaned forward to watch. Aziraphale licked his lips and bit the bottom one as he ran a finger slowly down his waistcoat, buttons popping open as he touched them. He shrugged out of the glimmering gold and the waistcoat disappeared before it hit the floor.

"Baby, kick off your shoes," the singer demanded. Aziraphale turned around, bent down to pull off white patent leathers, and wiggled his arse in time to the beat. Crowley never did see the shoes and socks disappear because his eyes were glued to that fascinating wiggle. The angel snapped back to upright and turned to face his demon.

As the singer allowed that he could "leave your hat on", his love tipped his top hat, flipped it up, and rolled it down his arm, catching it as it reached his hand and setting it at a rakish angle back on his head with another saucy wink.

The words of the song ceased to register with the demon as Aziraphale ripped open his shirt, throwing it back and off and gone in one fluid motion. Crowley's face went as red as his hair as he realized the angel was wearing the gold ouroborus nipple rings the demon had given him back in back in 1850 when they were all the rage. The blond closed his eyes and gently tugged on his jewelry, his hips swaying to the insistent beat. His nipples stretched and peaked and Aziraphale moaned with pleasure. Crowley moaned desperately, too, gripping the edge of the couch to keep himself from grabbing his angel instead. He really, really wished he hadn't picked his tightest black denims that morning.

Aziraphale's eyes flew back open, stormy blue and dark with lust. Moving a few steps closer to the couch and his demon, he unbuttoned his fly and oh so slowly pulled down the zip. Crowley couldn't help but reach out, longing to touch. The angel pouted, wagging his finger and moved back away. Crowley didn't whimper. No, sir! He was a fierce demon. A fierce demon with a painfully hard boner and trousers with an ever-growing wet spot. Pants might have been a good idea for the occasion.

When Aziraphale was back out of reach, he palmed over his growing erection, hips jerking forward as he groaned his pleasure at the friction. Blue eyes fastened on amber, he grabbed the cream fabric and pulled, the sides snapping open and coming free completely with one hard tug. He whipped them against the floor and the cracking noise made Crowley’s eyes roll back in his head. A second crack and the trousers were gone, leaving the angel in his hat, bow tie, and gold lame boxers.

As the man started singing "you give me reason to live", a black cane chair appeared between the two lovers, its back toward Crowley. Aziraphale's intent stare kept Crowley’s eyes fixated as the blond straddled the chair, pulling up snug against the back. Thrusting into the opening in between the center canes, Aziraphale closed his eyes, threw back his head and fucking moaned like he was swallowing his favorite crepes! He continued to fuck the chair through the chorus, the boxers accenting his excitement. Crowley caught himself rocking to the motions, so close to coming it was embarrassing.

With one last hard thrust, Aziraphale stood, flipping the chair over his head and into nothingness. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, pushing them down to show his hips and Crowley had to wipe his chin where some drool had escaped. Didn't take his hungry eyes off the angel for a moment, though. With a little smirk, Aziraphale pushed the shimmering fabric to the floor, only to reveal he still had a tiny gold bottom on, barely covering his sizable dripping cock. He turned around, hips still swaying, and, sweet Satan's horns, it was a g-string, leaving his delectable arse plush and uncovered. Crowley's teeth ground together, wishing he could bite those plump cheeks.

The man was back to going on about leaving the hat on, but Aziraphale took his off and turned back around. With a wicked grin full of dark promises, he covered his front with his hat, grabbed the side of the thong, and pulled it free. Keeping things covered with the top hat, the angel swung his hips and twirled the g-string around his finger before snapping it away to wherever.

The music started to fade. Aziraphale quickly threw the hat like a Frisbee and it landed on Crowley’s head. Before he could blink, his lap was full of very warm, very happy, very naked, angel. He whispered "Ta Da!" with a hot breath in Crowley’s ear and nipped the demon's earlobe.

"Fuck, Aziraphale," Crowley groaned, thrusting up as he grabbed two eager handfuls of ample angel arse.

"Oh, yes, please," Aziraphale said, snapping the panting demon free from all his clothes. "And happy anniversary, my love."

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale is performing to "You Can Leave Your Hat On." Performed by Joe Cocker and written by Randy Newman.  
> No clothes were harmed in the performance of this dance. They are all folded neatly on Crowley's dresser.


End file.
